Oh it was a long summer. Filled with empty schedule days, home renovation, and depression. I knew not working was going to be a challenge. I'm content with having a job: a thing. When I don't I've found that I feel useless and destructive. I imagine most people are like that, and that's nothing new. What amazes me is the way that depression controls you. It can be a struggle everyday to find any kind of happiness, and it was.
It was a sticky black tar. It seeped through my brain and clung to everything. No part of my life was safe. No relationship was safe. Life was dim and gray. I felt defensive and self destructive, but I would wake up everyday and try to be positive. I would try to find some enjoyment. It would ebb momentarily, then flow like a river. Nothing was left clean. Just a sticky mess that I didn't know how to clean up.
And maybe that's the thing about depression: we can't clean it up. It soils all of us at some point in our lives. All we can do is wake up everyday and hope that that will be the day the tar has cleared out. And of course it eventually does.
We're coming into fall, and I'm happy again. I'm painting, I've found a weekend x-ray job, and I've moved in with Terry. I can dream about the future again: it feels possible.
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